


Swan Lake

by Singofsolace



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Ballet, Dubious Consent, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24093583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singofsolace/pseuds/Singofsolace
Summary: Zelda Spellman is the prima ballerina of the New York City Ballet, under the direct 'supervision' of the esteemed artistic director and choreographer, Faustus Blackwood. The season will open with Swan Lake, but little does Zelda know that Lilith, an equally talented and famous ballerina, has been brought in from San Francisco to dance the role of the Black Swan instead.My response to the first prompt of Madam Spellman May: "Dance"
Relationships: Faustus Blackwood/Zelda Spellman, Zelda Spellman/Lilith, Zelda Spellman/Mary Wardwell | Madam Satan | Lilith
Comments: 41
Kudos: 80
Collections: Madam Spellman May





	Swan Lake

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! I'm a bit nervous about this one, so please let me know what you think. Also, feel free to request a second chapter if you like it. If this fic gets a good response, I might just continue it.
> 
> Content Warning: Extremely Dubious Consent (of the Spellwood variety)

Zelda Spellman had been the principal dancer at the New York City Ballet for nearly sixteen years—a startlingly long and celebrated career in a profession that demands no less than body-breaking perfection. She was the ballet company’s biggest and brightest _étoile_ , and Manhattan’s most beloved prima ballerina since George Balanchine’s favorite “muse,” Suzanne Farrell, had left the company after refusing one too many of the Artistic Director’s advances.

But today, Zelda felt less like a star and more like a flat rock slung forcefully across a lake, with the hope to see a nice skip.

“Again.”

“Faustus—”

“ _Again_ , Zelda.”

Zelda stretched her feet for a moment, delaying having to perform thirty-two more fouettés.

“Do you have any _notes_ , Faustus?” said Zelda, refusing to dance even as the pianist began to play her music.

Faustus circled behind her before leaning over her shoulder and whispering in her ear. “I’ll give them to you later—in _private_.”

Zelda shivered, hating the way his threat—or rather, his promise—made her whole body feel alive with anticipation and no small amount of lust.

“Again!”

And so, she turned, and turned, and turned. The music changed after sixteen bars, but the Black Swan just kept dancing, with a feverish kind of athleticism that Zelda would never admit was beginning to give her trouble. She was getting too old for this, but she would kill anyone who so much as suggested that she ought to retire at the end of the season. She’d played both Odette and Odile before, when she was far younger and eager to take on such an enormous challenge. One _New York Times_ reviewer had claimed that while she made the best White Swan he’d ever seen, she was too consumed with perfection to properly play the Black Swan, and that the ballet as a whole, for that reason, was a disappointment.

Just as she was rounding her thirty-first turn, the sound of a heavy door being thrust open distracted her. Falling out of the fouetté prematurely, Zelda nearly lost her balance entirely as the piano music came to an abrupt halt.

“So nice of you to join us, Lilith,” said Faustus sarcastically. “Go get warmed up.”

 _Lilith_? Zelda thought, panting with exertion. _From the_ _San Francisco Ballet_ …?

“Excuse me, everyone,” said Faustus, gesturing with his cane to the late-comer. “This woman needs no introduction, but I will give her one all the same. Coming to us all the way from California, please welcome our guest artist for the season, Lilith Morningstar.”

“Just _Lilith_ ,” the striking woman corrected, her strong voice bouncing off the walls of the studio, “Just call me Lilith, Blackwood. I divorced that son-of-a-bitch.”

Zelda’s eyes widened at the blatant disrespect this newcomer was showing to Lucifer Morningstar, one of the most famous choreographers of their time.

“Remind me to thank ‘that son-of-a-bitch’ for loaning you to us,” said Blackwood, his seething tone not lost on Zelda, who knew the levels of his voice better than anyone.

“Should I start again?” asked Zelda, not knowing what answer she wanted to hear. She was exhausted, but she also needed to prove to everyone that she could do it.

“No, that’s enough. Let’s take a tea break to discuss your notes, shall we?” said Faustus, the heat of his gaze scorching as his eyes roved over her sweaty body.

“Of course,” said Zelda, momentarily distracted from Faustus’ stare when Lilith made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat.

“How does the New York City Ballet get anything done if you stop for… _tea_?” said Lilith, the venom in her voice directed entirely towards Faustus, though Zelda could feel the back of her neck grow hot at the way she stressed the word “tea,” clearly wise to Blackwood’s intentions.

“I should think you were familiar with ‘tea’ breaks, Mistress Morningstar,” Faustus parried, his voice dangerously calm before he grabbed Zelda by the arm and dragged her out of the studio.

Zelda looked back over her shoulder just in time to see Lilith’s face go white.

* * *

Faustus was on her before the door to his office had even clicked shut. She was used to his violent passions, but there was a certain darkness to his eyes today that filled Zelda with unease. He lifted her so abruptly that she had no choice but to wrap her legs around his waist, lest she be dropped. He clutched her so fiercely to his body, it was as though he expected her to try and leave at any moment.

“Faustus?” asked Zelda breathlessly between kisses. “Faustus, I do actually want to hear your notes before we do this.”

Blackwood carried her over to his desk, setting her down on the edge a bit harder than Zelda would’ve liked as the wood bit into the back of her thighs.

“You won’t like what I have to say, which is why this should happen first,” said Faustus, spreading her legs wide before standing between them.

“Tell me now, or we don’t do this at all,” countered Zelda, pushing at Faustus’ shoulders when he leaned in for another devouring kiss.

“I thought an orgasm would soften the blow,” said Faustus, shoving the tight fabric of her leotard to the side so that he could sink his fingers into her. She made a keening sound as Faustus curled his fingers, rubbing against the spot inside her that always made her see stars.

“What blow?” Zelda panted, hating how well he knew her body, and how embarrassingly wet she already was around his fingers.

“Stop talking,” growled Faustus, using the hand that wasn’t inside her to pull at the thin straps of her leotard, “and take this off before I rip it to pieces.”

“You are _not_ ruining this leotard. It’s my favorite, it’s expensive, and you’ve already stretched out at least three—” Zelda lost her train of thought as Faustus expertly circled her clit with his thumb. She came embarrassingly fast, making the subject of ruining her leotard a moot point.

At least she always packed a spare… just in case.

Faustus didn’t pause for a moment, slipping the straps off her arms and pulling the leotard forcefully down to expose her chest. His mouth was immediately on her breasts, his hand coming to press against the small of her back so that she would move off of the desk for a moment so that he could rid her of the rest of her clothing.

“Faustus, don’t think you can distract me so easily,” Zelda sucked in a sharp breath as his teeth sank into sensitive breast tissue. “Tell me whatever it is you have to say.”

Now naked but for her slippers, Faustus shoved her shoulders hard so that she fell back onto the desk.

Zelda could hear the sound of his belt buckle and zipper. She leaned up onto her forearms, frustrated.

“Faustus, I’m serious. Stop. What are you hiding from me? Does it have to do with our new ‘guest artist?’”

Faustus kissed her, then, almost sweetly. His long fingers stroked from her thighs down to her calves. Her left calf in particular was screaming out in pain from having done so many fouettés in a row. Without needing to be told, Faustus massaged it as he kissed her.

After several more lingering kisses, Zelda grew impatient, and bit down, hard, on his lip. He reeled back, cursing in pain.

“Tell me, or I walk out of here right now, and you can find someone in the _corps_ to get you some ‘tea,’” said Zelda, trying to balance the insubordination of her words with a seductive smile, hoping she hadn’t miscalculated by fighting back.

“Alright, if you want to play it that way,” said Blackwood, pulling hard on her thighs until her ass nearly fell off the edge of the desk. He stood between her legs, spreading them wide, ready to take her. “Lilith will be our new Black Swan.”

* * *

Lilith was waiting outside of Blackwood’s office, growing more and more pissed off by the second. She didn’t care what the man did in his free time, but she had come to New York to _dance_ , and she’d be damned if she wasn’t given the proper time to rehearse just because Blackwood was a pig, like Lucifer.

She could barely hear what was going on inside the office, but she would recognize the sounds anywhere, and it made her stomach turn. She knew it wasn’t her business, and while Lilith didn’t know Zelda Spellman personally, she didn’t particularly want to see the woman hurt, if the situation wasn’t entirely mutual.

_“Faustus, I’m serious. Stop. What are you hiding from me? Does it have to do with our new ‘guest artist?’”_

Lilith held her breath, suddenly aware that the bastard Blackwood hadn’t even _told_ his prima ballerina that she wasn’t going to be playing both parts. Then she heard Faustus curse, which made her wonder what, exactly, Zelda had done to him.

_“Tell me, or I walk out of here right now, and you can find someone in the corps to get you some ‘tea,’”_

_“Alright, if you want to play it that way… Lilith will be our new Black Swan.”_

She heard Zelda cry out, as if in pain, and that was when Lilith decided that she couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, even if it meant getting a one-way ticket back to California. Expecting to find the door locked, she was shocked to discover that it opened immediately under her frantic touch.

Blackwood was bent over the desk with Zelda beneath him, her face the picture of shock and pain.

“Get the hell off of her!” said Lilith, not pausing for a moment as she rushed to the desk and pulled Faustus bodily away. He scrambled to zip his pants as Zelda tried (and failed) to cover herself with her hands. Lilith placed herself between them, shucking off her jacket so she could toss it to Zelda.

“Damn it, Lilith, what are you _doing_ in here?” said Faustus, his face red with fury. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”

“All I can see is that you should be fired,” said Lilith, glancing back at Zelda to make sure she was okay. She’d donned the jacket with as much dignity as she could, but looked awfully small beneath the ill-fitting fabric. “I have a mind to call the police.”

“You do that, and you’ll never work in ballet again,” said Faustus, his lips curled into a snarl. “You’ve already been kicked out of one company for stirring up trouble; I don’t think your career will survive another black mark on your record.”

“I don’t care about my career,” said Lilith, blocking Faustus as he tried to move closer to Zelda. “The dance industry is full of pricks like you, and I’m sick of it.”

“This ‘prick,’” growled Faustus, “knows the most influential people in Manhattan—I’ll have you know that the only thing the leaders of the Russian mob and the Italian mob have in common is a love for ballet. Do you really want to get on my bad side, Ms. Morningstar?”

Lilith ground her teeth at his continued use of her ex-lover’s last name. “I don’t care who has you in their pocket. Get the hell out, and don’t touch any of your dancers again.”

Blackwood looked like he was going to argue, but relented when a flash of metal caught his eye. Lilith had produced a knife, almost from thin air, and was pointing it at his groin. She’d bought it after Lucifer had made similar threats, and she wasn’t about to stand for any of it again.

“This isn’t over,” Blackwood spat before giving Zelda one last look and turning on his heel.

The air seemed to rush back into the room the moment he left. Lilith turned to Zelda, who was still perched on the desk.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” said Lilith, hiding her knife as she moved closer but not _too_ close, in case Zelda didn’t want that.

“I’m fine,” said Zelda, lifting her chin. “He just chose a very poor time to tell me that you’re my replacement.”

“Not a replacement,” said Lilith, reaching out for Zelda’s hand, which was trembling despite her assurances that she was fine. “I could never be Odette. Reviewers saying you’re too ‘perfect’ to be Odile shouldn’t be taken as an insult.”

“The role is meant to be danced by the same ballerina,” insisted Zelda, though she allowed Lilith to take her hand all the same. “I should be able to do _both_.”

“People have misconceptions about _Swan Lake_ ,” said Lilith carefully, running her thumb over the back of Zelda’s hand in what she hoped was a soothing motion. “Men can’t accept that a woman can be both pure and filled with lust at the same time. They think the White Swan and the Black Swan can’t possibly be the same, because one is pure and one is not. Yes, they are different characters, but the woman who dances both parts has to capture that duality. Men don’t like women who are neither completely innocent nor completely sexual.”

“Is anyone truly innocent?” whispered Zelda, the rest of her body beginning to shake from the adrenaline wearing off.

“Maybe not,” said Lilith, sitting on the desk beside Zelda so that she could wrap her arms around her. “But there’s no shame in it.”

“That’s easy to say when you’re not the one naked on a desk,” Zelda ground out, pushing the heels of her palms into her eyes. “I can’t believe he’d… I knew what I was getting myself into, but…”

“I’ve been there,” said Lilith. “Why do you think I was forced to come to New York?”

Zelda lifted her head, her eyes wet with unshed tears. “Why?”

“I got in over my head with Lucifer Morningstar,” said Lilith, as if his name left a bitter taste in her mouth. “So, we’re not all that different, you and me.”

“Odette and Odile?” said Zelda, with more acceptance than before.

“Exactly.”

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: While it seems a bit silly to credit Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa as the owner of these characters, considering he himself stole/borrowed/recreated them, let's give it a go. 
> 
> I do not own these characters. They belong to Archie Comics, which sent Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa himself a cease and desist for his blatant fanfic-turned-play, "Archie's Weird Fantasy," not too long ago. Please do not sue me; I am an unemployed adjunct professor writing fanfiction purely for entertainment purposes. I have very little money, but a whole lot of love for complicated female characters. While I do not wish to be sued, I would very much enjoy being given a position as show-runner for writing some great fanfic. I eagerly await your email.


End file.
